Immaturity Strikes Back
by kamikumai
Summary: Just Dean trying to use the supernatural as his scapegoat, and Sam, not buying it.


**Word from the Author:** Again, something a little different... Or, I think it's different from my usual stuff. For one, no actual Wincest... But you know how that show is, subtext people, subtext. And as I found on this really awesome avatar, "Subtext is buttsex, hidden." Or something to that effect, couldn't stop laughing -- must be that whole 'it's funny, cos it's true' thing.

Anyhow, let me know what you think of this. I don't know whether you guys will enjoy it or think it's stupid... So please, if by the end, you've got an opinion, or simply liked a particular aspect of the fic, do share, as it'll mean more fics 'cos I'll actually have an idea of what people like, instead of having to throw random thoughts out there into the void...

That said, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I'm getting really tired of writing disclaimers... I'm practically all disclaimer'ed out, and no where near owning anything either... //sighs//.

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**Immaturity Strikes Back**

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"I don't think I can stand to be seen with you in public."

"You can't hold it against me, Sammy," Dean whined, "I couldn't _help_ it."

"Whatever, dude."

"I'm being serious here. It's like... if my body wants something, it just overrides my mind to get it!"

Sam stared at him intently, as if he were measuring the truth of Dean's impassioned exclamation. Dean held his gaze, trying to look as earnest as possible.

However, Sam's next words really just made Dean want to bitch slap his brother.

"And this is different from normal, how?" Sam questioned dead-pan.

Dean narrowed his eyes pointedly, as he replied snobbishly, "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."

Sam's first reaction was to snort in response. "Yeah," he scoffed, "because the only answer would be that there is no difference. The only thing I find strange, I guess, would be the fact that you're admitting it."

"See! There, there you go, weirdness alert! Something freaky is going on," Dean's hands had joined in with his explanation, moving spasmodically in front of Sam's face, a little too close to Sam's nose for comfort.

"Dude, chill. Only _you_ would call the truth about yourself freaky. There is nothing wrong with you."

Sam paused, as if considering what he'd just said. "Wait, let me rephrase that. There is nothing _supernaturally_ wrong with you," Sam informed his brother emphatically. "In this instance anyway, the thing that would seem to be wrong with you is the simple fact that you _have no freaking conscience_."

"I do so have a conscience!" Dean argued indignantly, and intelligently.

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked, qualifying his question with a snide, "One that allows for the illegal appropriation of a little kid's ice-cream? That was low, bro, even for you."

"For one, it so was not theft," Dean muttered rebelliously. Trying to further quantify this statement, he added petulantly, "He didn't even want to eat it."

Sam stared at his brother blankly for a moment. "Not after you told him it would cause his eyeballs to melt and drain down his throat, he didn't. How kind of you to then '_dispose_' of it."

"That's my point, exactly! That wasn't _me_ talking," Dean lamented.

"It sure as hell looked like you talking," Sam delivered pointedly, "unless they've got some bad dubbing going on here that I don't know about."

"Oh, ha-ha," Dean snarked. "Smartass."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Petty thief." Sam grinned. "Emphasis on the petty."

"I'm telling you, I did not want to say what I said!"

"But you don't deny the fact that you wanted the ice-cream?"

"Come on, Sammy, even you were eyeing up the ice-cream. Can you blame a man for looking?"

"No, but I can blame him for fraudulently obtaining. From a _kid_."

"Gargh! You're never going to let me live this one down, are you? Even though _it wasn't even me_!"

"You can only lie to yourself so much, Dean. As your little brother, I'll have you know, I'm glad you didn't ever learn to do shit like that to me when I was just a kid."

"You, you little old man, were _never_ a kid!"

"Yeah, like you can talk, you _perverted_ old man. I remember when we had to stay late after school with Miss Jenkins, and you faked that tummy-ache and cried like a girl just so you could sit on her lap."

"Dude! How the crap do you remember stuff like that? You were barely 5 at the time!"

"And _you_ were almost 10. Then again, it just goes to show how you've scarred my impressionable mind, ever since an early age."

"Yeah, well, goes to show… goes to show… that you're a voyeur!"

"…_I'm_ a voyeur?"

"No," Dean drawled out sarcastically, "I'm talking to the wee little green man standing on yer shoulder," Dean mocked in a poor imitation of an Irish accent.

"So that's where he went? I could've sworn he was _up your arse_."

There was a long moment of silence, before Dean, looking vaguely disturbed, grimaced, "…I so did not want that image in my mind."

Sam winced in sympathy.

"Sorry."

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Finis.

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**Another Word from the Author: **I _think_ that this was inspired by a random thought I had about how Dean would probably try to blame as much of the immature/mean/stupid things that he does on supernatural causes, and Sammy, being an intelligent sort of guy, and also having _met _Dean (quite some time back now), just totally not buying it.

Random paying-outage ensues, until one of them goes too far – then that person has to apologize and life pretty much just goes on.


End file.
